


The Bright Side of Life

by Chrisio



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Best Friends, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, and there are definitely alternate ways to cheering someone up, i guess, in which Crutchie and Jack are both theatre nerds, no romance or smut here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrisio/pseuds/Chrisio
Summary: Think, Crutchie. Think. What would get Jack to open up and talk to you?Well, he could....no. Or...no, that wouldn't work, at least for a couple of days. He needed a plan that would work now. And he didn't want to drag one of the other guys in, as far as he could help it. When Jack was in a mood, the issue needed to be handled tactfully, something that the others.....forgot, sometimes.Right, well, that doesn't help. What would cheer Jack up?Well, making an idiot of yourself usually makes him laugh.He sighs. So, making an idiot of himself was officially on the table. But without one of the other guys, that'd be a feat to achieve. So, back to the drawing board, then. What was some way to cheer Jack up?There was....well, that could work. But how-....oh. Oh, hell. He had an idea.





	The Bright Side of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Semoka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semoka/gifts).



> This is cheesy as hell, but don't yell at me. It works, okay.
> 
> If you can't tell what song is being quoted, or you've never heard it before, [here it is!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZucMAM-PQE/) It starts at around the 0:35 mark.
> 
> Gift for my friend, who was having a bit of a difficult day

...It was quiet.

It was too quiet.

Crutchie looks up from his book, head tilting at the stillness of the air. Jack had gotten back from classes a while ago, and ever since he got back...he'd barely made a sound. That was weird. Jack was never quiet. Well...he was  _sometimes_  quiet. But he was never silent like now. In fact....Crutchie racks his brain for the small instance he had seen Jack during his return. It was...a while ago. Crutchie had still been on the couch reading when he heard the door open. That's right, he'd barely gotten a mumbled "H'lo" before Jack had strode right down the hallway. Crutchie had brushed it off at the time, figuring that Jack had something important he had to do, but now that time had passed and he'd seen neither hide nor hair of his friend...

Something was  _wrong_.

Well, time to figure out what it was. Best Friend duties called.

Folding down the page corner to save his spot, Crutchie sighs and gently tosses his book to the other end of the couch. He reaches out, pulling his crutch closer, preparing himself for a moment before hauling himself to his feet. Once situated, he sighs, shuffling out of the living area and into the hallway leading to the two bedrooms. His crutch thumps against the wooden floor, and soon enough he finds himself staring at the door leading to Jack's room. This shouldn't be hard -- they've been best friends for years. He'd knocked on Jack's door how many times, now? Way too many to count. Regardless, that doesn't stop Crutchie from hesitating at the door, shuffling in place as his thoughts whirl. He lifts his hand to knock, pausing for a minute before finally shaking off the worry and rapping his fist against the wood. God, he needed to stop overthinking stuff. This was Jack; nothing bad would happen just by knocking.

"Hey, Jack?"

...Nothing.

Crap. Worry swells in his chest, and his mind is already spinning 10 different scenarios as to why Jack wasn't answering. Maybe he was ignoring Crutchie. No, that couldn't be right....he didn't think he'd done anything recently to bother Jack. Did Jack get in a fight with one of their friends? No, Crutchie would have heard about that as well. Jack didn't exactly have the tightest lid when it came to that sort of thing. He might be sleeping....but in the middle of the afternoon? Unlikely. Jack was a night owl through and through. He wasn't drawing either -- a quick lean close to the door confirms that. Jack always played music when he was working on his next piece, and it was silent behind the door.

Well...it had been a bit of time. Should he knock again? Maybe Jack wanted to be left alone. With a quick shake of his head, Crutchie sets his mouth in determined frown and knocks again. He might as well try again. If Jack wanted to be left alone, then sure, he'd leave him alone after one last try. After all, then he couldn't say he didn't do anything to help. "Jack, you in there?" He waits with bated breath, listening for any kind of response. Nothing but silence greeted him, and he was just about to give up when a muffled response came from behind the door. It was hard to tell (it might have been a "Yeah"), but Crutchie takes it as a grudging invitation and opens the door, letting himself in. Once he steps into the doorway, he sees Jack on his bed, sketchbook propped up on his knees. There's a pencil in his hand, and with a start, Crutchie realizes that Jack  _had_  been in the middle of drawing. He falters, stuttering for an apology, but Jack waves his hand, cutting off any apology trying to form.

"'S alright, not like you haven't walked in on me before. What's up, Crutch?"

Crutchie bites his lip, suddenly nervous. Something definitely felt off. He'd been friends with Jack long enough to know when something wasn't right, and right now all sorts of buzzers were going off in the back of his head. "Oh, nothin'. I just..." he fumbles for an excuse. "I'se just checkin' up on you. You were kinda quiet when ya came in. It just....felt weird."

Jack stares at him a moment longer, gaze unwavering before going back to his sketchpad. "'Ppreciate it," he says, sounding distracted as he drags the pencil around the page. There's something else though, some undertone that's trying too hard to sound casual, to sound intentional, that's setting Crutchie on edge. "But I'm okay. You're good, Crutchie." He looks back up. "Sorry for worryin' ya."

Crutchie just shrugs, not moving from his spot in the doorway. "That's okay. Just wanted to be sure." He squints a little as he watches Jack, waiting a moment before following up with, "Ya sure nothing's botherin' you?" Jack was lying. He can tell, plain as day. Working in the same store when they were younger had given Jack the outrageous ability to deadpan lie in people's faces. It gave him a great customer service voice and ability to straightface anything in front of strangers, but Crutchie could always tell when he was lying. By this point, he definitely knew better than to believe him in moments like this. So, he waits.

Sure enough, Jack's tongue darts out to wet his lips, and something akin to nervousness flickers through his eyes momentarily before they dart away to focus back to his sketchpad. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm  _fine_ , Crutch." Crutchie's eyes just narrow, and he shifts weight more heavily to the crutch, leaning against it as he raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"Ya sure?" Jack gives an affirmative nod, and Crutchie just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Really? 'Cause you just did the thing." Oh, apparently he didn't work hard enough to keep the exasperation from his voice. He sees Jack frown with confusion, and then a split-second later his eyes widen as he understands. Annoyance flashes through them at the realization of being caught, and he sighs, sagging in defeat. The sketchbook is tossed away, and Crutchie sees that the page only holds random lines, not a one of them close to being called a thumbnail or even an abstract doodle. Damn. Whatever the issue was, it was bothering Jack  _bad_. When Crutchie looks back from the book, he sees Jack's eyes on him, and he can barely open his mouth before Jack sighs and rolls over so his back is facing the doorway.

So it was going to be that way.

Rolling his eyes, Crutchie makes his way over to Jack's bed, settling down on the opposite edge of it. Jack makes no move to recognize he's there, and with an internal sigh, Crutchie realizes it'll be another time where getting information will be like pulling teeth. But first, might as well try the straightforward route. Jack might be willing to save them time and trouble. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound....like that. 'M just worried." He waits, and, just as he suspected, Jack remains silent. Okay. He closes his eyes, slumping over to hold his head as he racks his brain.

_Think, Crutchie. Think. What would get Jack to open up and talk to you?_

Well, he could....no. Or...no, that wouldn't work, at least for a couple of days. He needed a plan that would work now. And he didn't want to drag one of the other guys in, as far as he could help it. When Jack was in a mood, the issue needed to be handled tactfully, something that the others.....forgot, sometimes.

_Right, well, that doesn't help me. What would cheer Jack up?_

_Well, making an idiot of yourself usually makes him laugh._

He sighs. So, making an idiot of himself was officially on the table. But without one of the other guys, that'd be a feat to achieve. So, back to the drawing board, then. What was some way to cheer Jack up?

There was....well, that could work. But how-....oh. Oh, hell. He had an idea. It was a dumb idea, and it wasn't that thought-through. But then again, when were any of their plans completely thought through? And...wait, would it even work? Crutchie glances over at Jack, who hasn't even moved. There were exactly two ways this could go, and if it went south then he didn't know what he would do. He'd probably just have to wait it out until Jack decided to come out of his room again. And if he had to wait, then there was plenty of time for Jack to overthink things and shove them back, and  _God, they all knew how bad it got the last time he did that--_

...yeah, best not to let that happen again.

He's stalling. Crutchie knows he's stalling, and the more he stalls the more his anxiety builds. What was he anxious about? Jack was his friend, his best friend, had been for years. They'd been idiots plenty of times in front of each other. Maybe 'cause he was worried for Jack. Well, he was always worried for Jack, rather hard not to be since-

_Oh for God's sake, just shut up._

He shakes his head, finally just spitting out words, for lack of anything else planned. "I meant it, y'know. Before. I _am_ worried about you. You're never quiet, an' then you're bein' all quiet today. D'ya wanna tell me what's wrong?" Jack just sighs, and Crutchie just deflates. Well that was...disheartening. He doesn't want to pry, of course, he'll leave if Jack tells him to. But without even saying a word.... "Don't feel like talkin'? ...No?" He sighs, shuffling in place on the bedspread. "That's alright. I get like that too, sometimes." He shrugs in resignation. "Besides, ya know what they say."

A noncommittal grunt is the only answer he receives. Fine, then. He tried. If Jack wants to be difficult, then he'll have to go all out. He inhales, steadying his resolve, and then launches into it. Nothing to lose, right?

"Soooooome things in life are bad. They can really make ya mad. Other things just make ya swear 'n curse."

It's awkward, and Crutchie internally cringes at how clumsy the lyrics sound, at how shaky his voice is as the first notes come out. Oh God, what the hell was he thinking?  He shoulda thought this over more. Why didn't he just comfort his friend normally? Well, he'd already sung the first verse, he couldn't really drop out now, could he?? Crutchie peers out of the corner of his eye, noting how Jack doesn't move in the slightest to respond. Well, Jack did move his head a little bit. What was  _he_  thinking? God, Crutchie wished he could see his friend's expression. It would make it easier to tell if he was making an idiot of himself right now.

He was definitely making an idiot of himself right now.

"If you're chewin' on life's gristle, don't grumble. Give a whistle." A small smile pulls at his lips, and he leans back to see Jack still moping. Hm. "An' this'll help things turn out for the beeeest." The tune hangs in the air, a silent offer along with it. Jack stays silent, and with a resigned shrug Crutchie plunges into the chorus. "Aaaaannd always look on the bright side of life." He whistles a bouncy little tune to follow, seeing Jack shift on his side, curling up into a tighter ball. "Always look on the light side of life." Another whistle, and this time he can't help but bounce a little on the bed in time with the tune. "If life seems jolly rotten, there's somethin' you've forgotten. An' that's to laugh 'n smile 'n dance 'n sing! When you're feeling in the dumps, don't be silly chumps. Just purse your lips and whistle, that's the thing!" He leans back, nudging Jack's leg with his elbow. In response, Jack jerks his leg away, twisting to glare at Crutchie over his shoulder. Yikes. It's not his angry look, though. Crutchie realizes that as he launches into the second chorus. Jack's angry look is more fiery and spiteful. Right now, his eyes look more tired and exasperated and upset, not angry. It's a muted difference, but a notable one nonetheless. And as Crutchie continues to sing, he realizes he's right, as Jack rolls over onto his back and throws an arm over his face to cover his eyes.

It's a more receptive position than having the back to him. By the time he reaches the second whistle, Crutchie's made up his mind. No harm in trying again....unless Jack really did want to kick him out. Leaning back, he nudges Jack again with his elbow. "C'mon, Jackie," he prods gently. "You try it!"

Jack slowly lifts his arm up, blinking at him with a skeptical and unimpressed look. He doesn't say anything, and Crutchie begins to feel the heat climb up his neck, considers ending this obviously botched attempt at comfort before Jack deadpans, "Life's a piece'a shit, when ya look at it. Life's a laugh and death's a joke." He flops back against his pillows, releasing a heavy sigh. "...It's true."

...not the part he was looking for, but hey, part of the song nonetheless. He'd take it. "You'll see it's all a show. Keep on laughin' as ya go-"

"Just remember that the last laugh's on you." The moment Jack interrupts him, relief floods Crutchie's chest. Back on answering terms. He could work with that. That was better than Jack staring at the wall like a few minutes ago. They sit in a stalemate, silent , waiting for the other to act first. Jack's uncooperative,  Crutchie sees, and it's hard to tell if he was moping or pouting. The realization makes him want to sigh, but he restrains himself; he doesn't want Jack to think he was getting annoyed, and obviously Jack wasn't going to act first. So one last time, Crutchie leans back to gently nudge his friend's leg. "What's botherin' ya, Jack?" His question is quiet and unprodding, the routine familiar from countless times doing it before. It takes a minute, but soon enough Crutchie is rewarded with a response, almost too low and quiet to hear.

"..School."

Ah, figures. School was one of the few things that got Jack agitated like this. "Whatsit, some kinda project gotcha all worked up?" A shake of the head prompts him to try again. "Is it Weasel?"

"....no," Jack sighs. He sounds reluctant, and Crutchie allows him to trail off. If Jack wanted to say what was bothering him, then he'd tell. Crutchie had gotten what he wanted anyway. After a minute of silence, Jack shifts again, voice sounding warped under his arm as he groans, "Snyder." Crutchie just nods, not needing further context. He already knew how hard the guy was on his roommate.

"Well, ya know what they say," he begins, shifting to be able to see Jack easier. Eyes blink at him from under Jack's arm again, a little wary, and Crutchie can't help grinning as he finishes. "Fuck him."

The blunt statement causes Jack to snort, and Crutchie is relieved to see a small smile emerging. "And ya know," he adds on, "teacher evaluations 're a thing. Ya live through the class, and at the end'a the semester you can write down all the bullshit he put ya through. An' besides, what's a better way to piss 'im off than pass with flyin' colors? Do well, and force him to give ya a good grade on top of it?" He grins. "That'd  _kill_  him."

The smile on Jack's face grows, but of course the stubborn ass still finds a way to sound miserable in spite of it. "You're right," he groans. As he rolls up into a sit, though, it's easier to see that the smile is reaching his eyes a bit further, and he shifts in order to sit and even halfway-face Crutchie.

"'Course I'm right!" Crutchie preens, straightening up at the praise and laughing.  "When 've I ever been wrong about somethin'?"

"Weelll..." Jack's smile cracks into a grin as he thinks. "There  _was_  that time in high school when you'n'Elmer bet Race he couldn't-"

"Heyyy, ah, we don't gotta bring that up," he interjects quickly, and with a swell of pride Crutchie realizes he hears Jack laughing.

" _You'se_  the one gettin' cocky. I'm just  _sayin'_ -"

"What,  _me_ , cocky? I dunno what you're talkin' about, Jack, that don't sound like me-"

"Ah, shut up!" Jack cuffs him lightly around the back of the head, and Crutchie can't help but laugh alongside him. They go on like that for a bit, the two of them laughing, before devolving into giggles and finally just sniffling as they both regain their composure. Crutchie wipes at his eyes before looking over and seeing Jack curled in on himself, a grin stretched wide across his face.

"Well, lookit that. I knew there was a smile in there somewhere."

Jack's head snaps up to glare at him, but with his eyes full of mirth it was hard not to grin back. "Oh, so that's what your master plan was. You was just wantin' me to smile?" He huffs, turning up his nose. "And here I thought you cared about me. I see how it is!"

"And lookit how well it turned out!" Crutchie teases, giving Jack a friendly push. "I'm a regular genius."

"Yeah, you'se somethin' alright," Jack responds, shoving Crutchie in kind. "You're a sap." He sighs contently, rolling the stiffness out of his muscles. "Alright, kid. You've had your fun. Now get outta here, 'fore I punch ya for getting that song stuck in my head."

Crutchie grins, giving Jack one more friendly swat on the shoulder before he reaches for his crutch. He pushes himself to his feet, and he's about halfway to the door before he turns, worry flickering in the back of his eyes.

"Hey, Jack."

A pair of brown eyes swiveled to look at him.

"You good?"

Jack blinks as a small smile stretches across his face. "Yeah, Crutch. I'm good."

Relief courses through him, and he nods, smiling. "Right, uh. I'll leave ya to it then." He turns, and, despite the limp, it was almost believable to have seen a newfound spring in Crutchie's step as he walked out the bedroom door.

**Author's Note:**

> I will take my love for Spamalot with me to my grave
> 
> Also I'm only slightly sorry if they're OOC. This was posted late at night, unbeta'd. I honestly should rewatch the musical again
> 
> Come find me at my tumblr: [@Schmilliam](https://schmilliam.tumblr.com/)


End file.
